Page 102 of Force At Third

“Chloe, you have time to decide. We’re down for whatever.”

“Even getting shot.” She wipes away a tear. “Today wasn’t about him. Today was about you, and Leland, and love.”

“So we get back on track.” Whit takes her other hand.

Chloe perks up a bit. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“I have until August. Let’s?—”

“No fucking way,” Marks grumbles. “Get the I do’s done before she changes her damn mind.”

“It’s pop the bubbly and toast to the newly engaged.” Chloe smiles as she moves toward the basket on the island.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Not sure I should be drinking while on pain meds.”

“Which is why we brought sparkling cider,” Whitley states as she heads that way.

Perfect, I think as I head over.

“Red”—Chloe shakes the bottle in her right hand—“or white?”

“I think I deserve a glass of each.” I laugh.

***

After I realized that they weren’t joking—they were actually spending the night, and so were their husbands and even the boys, to celebrate us and also give CeCe and Rome some much-needed alone time—I decide to take a nap, knowing it’s going to be a later night than usual.

But first, we do a house tour, they pick out their rooms, and I send Locke a text.

Me

Caught the end of the game. Killed it again. Going to rest a bit. Wake me up when you get here.

Locke

Thanks, sugar. Appreciate it, but I was expecting a little something different.

Smiling, I hit him back.

Me

That’s my player.

Locke

And that’s my girl. Nailed it. How shall I wake you? Hands, tongue, or dick?

Smiling like a loon, I reply.

Me

You choose.

Locke

That’s my good girl.

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